To Be Human
by Almedha
Summary: I guess there is plenty of time to be introspective while waiting for the fleet to rendezvous... Spock and Kirk fluff-stuff.


_This is a rewrite of a story that I lost. I don't know which version is better, but I guess it is what it is. _

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_You are neither Human nor Vulcan and therefore have no place in this universe._

It had seemed so logical. Rendezvous with the fleet and mount a more formidable attack. Of course, it was more logical than chasing after a single ship of such size and power alone. The _Enterprise_ was unprepared, unfinished. She hadn't even been christened yet. It was a wonder she wasn't left, but if she hadn't been, then none on Vulcan would have survived.

And now all there was… all there was to do was sit and think. It was painful to think, even with emotions in check. He had done something most illogical: left an unprepared cadet on an L-class planet to fend for himself and find civilization. Spock had to admit that he didn't care at the moment if he met his end trying to do that. There were plenty of Humans left and probably those better than James T. Kirk.

His mind wandered away from the captain's chair he had so recently inherited, uninitiated and unready, and the mistakes he'd made so early. The only thing he could think of now was that empty hole in space that had once been home. It was such a Human word, "home." As though it were more than just a place, maybe more than just a place one lived. He had grown up there and now everything he held most dear was gone. Unfortunately, maddeningly, just beyond the reach of his fingertips_._

_Whatever you decide, you will have a proud mother_.

Where had these thoughts come from: instances from the past that had once seemed—and were—insignificant? He had known then that her declaration would have necessitated her to know all courses of action he might take. No, it assumed _he_ knew the course of action he would take. Of course, she couldn't have seen this coming. She couldn't have seen these mistakes he made… and in her name, no less. Wasn't everything he did for her, in one way or another?

If his existence was a mistake in the universe, a child of two worlds, then she might have seen this coming.

But he wasn't of two worlds; that was something Sarek could not understand. Sarek had lost his planet. Spock had lost his home. Could a Vulcan have a home? Or merely a place one lived? If those Vulcans saw the planet as no more than what it was, the he truly was different from them. Different from anyone, belonged nowhere. And the one person in the universe who didn't seem to care about that, inexplicably, was now gone.

But this introspection was pointless, now. He was where he was, and this place seemed inescapable, at least until the rest of the fleet came. And he wasn't even sure he'd made the right choice. Of course, it was possible to make all the right decisions and still lose. But there was this—this _feeling_ he couldn't shake. He turned away from it, even had it removed from the ship, refused to listen.

It was illogical, and therefore wrong. He had to go with the closest decision to "right" he could muster. It was entirely uncomfortable, this not knowing. At one point, everything had seemed so clear, because even if he made a wrong choice he knew it would be right in the eyes of at least one. One who at least partially understood what it meant to be different, a mistake that seemed intolerable to the universe as he knew it. Like he had, she had endured the cruelty of apathetic bias that only a Vulcan could conjure.

And she was proud.

He had to make his decisions based on the facts and situation at hand and—and _hope_ he made the right decision. But that was illogical, too. But it was a decision. His decision. She was proud; he would hope. And maybe that was what it meant to be Human.

_Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes and saved eight-hundred lives, including yours and your mother's. I dare you to do better._

Cold. Why this planet? Probably because it was cold.

He looked up at the sky and, even though he couldn't see the _Enterprise_ up there—if it was even there—cursed Spock. That Vulcan hated his guts. Could a Vulcan hate? Oh, yeah. Of course. Kirk hadn't had much experience with Vulcans, but they could hate without emotions. Somehow.

That didn't make sense.

How was he supposed to make sense? It was below zero degrees on almost any thermometer! He was entitled to not making sense right now. But even when he was making all the sense in the world, no one believed him. Not that stupid Vulcan, anyway. It wasn't logical.

Oh, that almighty word that was a god to those pointy-eared bastards. Logic. Sometimes it could lead the wrong way, couldn't it? What was logical wasn't always right, was it? He couldn't explain it, but he _knew_ Spock was wrong. It was that gut feeling that that had him tied up in knots, knowing that if things didn't happen _just so_ from here on out, life as they knew it was over.

But he'd so brilliantly gotten himself kicked off the ship. His temper—no, Spock's temper. Honestly, that Vulcan. Gratuitous emotional meltdowns in a first-officer-now-captain had never been so tolerated. Because it was _logical_. Well, logic was all well and good for the theoretical, but in practice sometimes you just had to make the best decision you could, and hope for the best!

That was something Spock would never understand.

That was something he'd actually never understood until now, either. He'd spent all his life until recently making all the wrong decisions, only the decisions that pleased him at the moment. What was best was of no consequence, because he was of no consequence. He never dared think otherwise.

But what if he was of consequence? What if his illogic was the only thing standing between a universe of ill and the things that mattered most?

Well, that was stupid. But it was also cold. He was entitled to a bit of stupidity.

No, he wasn't. He'd spend his whole life being stupid and ignoring the best. Earth was only one step away from ending up like Vulcan. He didn't know what he had to do to save it—make the best decision and hope? Put aside whatever decision might have pleased him and go for the best. For once. For once in his life.

The decision was made. He'd been out here maybe ten minutes and the cold was definitely getting to his brain. He was going to get off this planet, save Spock from his logic, and Earth in the process. It was going to be a good day. Go with his gut, make the best decision, and hope. He guessed that was what it meant to be Human.

Nope, that Vulcan would never understand.

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